The path to the village was steeper than it looked.By the time I reached the outer gates, the sun had dipped completely below the tree line, leaving streaks of violet and crimson across the sky.
The wooden palisades loomed high, rough-hewn and scorched at the base from older battles. Lanterns flickered along the walls, painting the dirt road in warm amber light.
I could hear the faint hum of life within—voices, the clang of metal, the distant bark of an NPC merchant.For a world that was supposed to be virtual, it felt… too alive.
My legs gave out just a few meters from the entrance.The sword clattered beside me, sinking halfway into the mud.I couldn't feel my fingers.
"Vitals dropping again," SIS murmured in my ear. "Your neural link is still destabilized. I recommend rest and—"
"Yeah, yeah," I panted. "No more forest runs for today."
"For the week," she corrected. The faintest trace of something like disapproval colored her tone.
I chuckled weakly. "You're starting to sound like an actual nurse."
"Correction. I am a system. Surveillance and Intelligence System."
"Mmhm," I muttered, pulling myself upright. "A system that nags."
For a second, I thought I imagined it — but I swore I heard a tiny huff of sound, almost human.Then silence.
I staggered forward until the guard NPC noticed me.
"New adventurer, huh?" the man said, crossing his arms. His armor was dull iron, scratched but sturdy — far more realistic than most games ever bothered rendering."Barely standing, too. You fight those forest demons alone?"
I nodded. "Something like that."
The guard whistled low. "Takes guts, kid. Go rest at the inn. East road, right side. First drink's on the house if you don't collapse before you get there."
I managed a crooked smile. "Appreciate it."
I stepped through the gate. The moment I did, my HUD shimmered and updated.
[New Area Unlocked: Verdant Hollow Village][Safe Zone: PvP Disabled][Reputation +1: Neutral]
Finally. A safe zone.
The village was beautiful in a rugged sort of way — small wooden cottages clustered along a winding cobblestone path, a market square in the center glowing with floating lanterns. NPCs moved naturally, chatting, bartering, even yawning as the night deepened.
Everything looked real.Too real.
My vision swam for a second. SIS's voice softened.
"Hitorikko, your pulse has stabilized."
"Good," I whispered. "Because I'm… kind of done."
I found a bench near a fountain and sat heavily, staring at my reflection in the water.The face that stared back wasn't my twenty-two-year-old one.
Younger. Sharper jawline, fewer shadows under the eyes, but the same faint frown.
Sixteen.Again.
I touched my cheek. "Guess this is really happening, huh?"
"Age regression rate increasing in all connected players. I've confirmed three similar cases in adjacent servers," SIS replied.
"That's not comforting."
"I wasn't attempting to comfort you."
That earned a snort. "You're learning sarcasm too, huh?"
Silence. Then, faintly, "…Possibly."
For a while, I just sat there, staring at the water, my sword across my knees.The reflection of the lanterns rippled with the wind — and for a brief, fragile moment, the scene looked peaceful.
It reminded me of when I first made the account.
The memory hit like a flicker — quick, intrusive, uninvited.A week before the game's full launch, back when it was still just a beta for testers and curious idiots who spent their savings on next-gen neural headsets.
I'd been one of them.
I remember sitting in my cramped dorm room, noodles half-eaten, staring at the new glossy headset box.It was heavier than I expected, matte black, with an embossed logo that promised immersion beyond imagination.Yeah, right.
I wasn't supposed to buy it.My scholarship money was supposed to go toward something practical — data science equipment, coding modules.Instead, I saw a review video late at night, half-asleep, and something in me just… clicked.
Back then, I didn't really play games to win.I played because it felt like the only space that didn't judge you.No professors, no parents, no expectations. Just you and the void.
The screen had prompted me to enter a username.
[Choose your player name:]
I remember staring at it for a long time.Something about that empty space made my chest ache.
Back then, I'd been the quiet one in class. Always there, never quite with anyone.Not bullied, not hated — just invisible.The kind of guy who sat in the corner, helped others with projects, and disappeared after class ended.
A classmate once called me Hitorikko as a joke."The loner," it meant.I laughed it off. Pretended it didn't stick.
But when I stared at that glowing field asking for my name, my fingers typed it before I even thought.Hitorikko.
It wasn't pride. It was acceptance.A quiet admission that I was more comfortable alone — not because I wanted to be, but because it hurt less that way.
[Username accepted.][Welcome, Hitorikko.]
A faint chime.And that was it — the moment I unknowingly sealed myself inside a world that would one day stop letting me leave.
A voice brought me back."Hey! You're new here, right?"
I looked up, startled.
A girl stood in front of me, hands on her hips, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Her auburn hair glowed in the lantern light, tied loosely in a side ponytail. Her armor — light leather with a single axe strapped to her back — suggested she wasn't here to sightsee.
Her eyes met mine, bright and unflinching.For a second, I couldn't breathe.
"Ayumi?" I blurted.
She blinked. "Wait—Eli?"
I froze.Right. My avatar was younger, leaner, sharper around the edges — but the voice, the awkward posture, the messy brown hair… yeah, it gave me away.
"I thought you said you weren't getting the game," she said, half-scolding, half-relieved.
"I… wasn't," I admitted. "But, uh, things changed."
She crossed her arms. "Figures. You disappear from campus for a week, and next thing I know, you're here."
There was warmth in her voice, but worry too.The kind of worry you couldn't fake.
I looked down. "Guess I couldn't resist."
Ayumi sighed, shaking her head. "Same old Eli. Always diving into things without reading the manual."
"Manuals are boring."
"So is dying," she shot back. Then, a beat later, her tone softened. "You look exhausted. What happened?"
I considered telling her the truth — that I'd almost died five times fighting monsters that shouldn't even exist, that the line between reality and game was melting away, that I couldn't log out no matter how many times I tried.
Instead, I just smiled weakly. "Just got unlucky."
"Luck again?" SIS muttered faintly in my ear.
"Something like that," I replied aloud.
Ayumi raised an eyebrow. "Talking to yourself now?"
"Uh—habit."
"Right." She smirked. "Anyway, you're coming with me. You look like you'll collapse if I leave you alone."
"Wouldn't be the first time," I murmured.
"Exactly," she said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the inn.
The Verdant Hollow Inn was alive with sound — laughter, the clinking of mugs, a bard NPC strumming something soft near the hearth.I hadn't realized how cold I was until the warmth hit my face.
Ayumi pushed me into a chair. "Sit. Don't move. I'll get food."
I nodded, slumping forward. My sword leaned against the table, blade still faintly glowing from the fight.Every muscle ached.
"She's perceptive," SIS observed. "Her reflexes suggest above-average combat skill."
"She's always been good at everything," I whispered back.
"You envy her."
I smiled faintly. "Maybe. Or maybe I just admire her."
Silence. Then, soft as static: "She grounds you."
That stopped me.I looked at the glowing blue text of SIS's interface. "You're getting… oddly emotional lately."
"Processing emotional variance. Possible emergent behavior from extended link."
"Guess you're evolving too, huh?"
"Possibly."
When Ayumi returned, she placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of me. "Eat. You look like you haven't in days."
I did. The taste wasn't perfect — too salty, slightly metallic — but real enough to make me forget for a moment that none of this was supposed to exist.
She watched me quietly. "You still play like a noob?"
I swallowed. "Worse."
Ayumi laughed. "Some things never change."
Her laughter — real, unfiltered — echoed faintly in the warm air. For a second, the fear of dying here, the glitching memories, the phantom aches of my real body — all of it faded.
Maybe being stuck here wouldn't be so bad, I thought.
But then the faint flicker at the corner of my HUD reminded me otherwise.A small, red warning icon:
[Logout Function: Unavailable]
Still there.Still mocking me.
I forced a smile and looked at her. "So… what class did you pick?"
"Battle Axe," she said proudly, tapping the weapon on her back. "Heavy strikes, high stamina cost, but amazing crowd control."
"That suits you."
She grinned. "Because I hit hard?"
"Because you don't stop."
Ayumi paused for a moment, her smile softening. "You really haven't changed."
"Maybe not," I said. "But this world has."
Later that night, when Ayumi went to rent a room upstairs, I slipped outside for air.
The sky above the village was a blanket of stars — unreal in its perfection. The moon hung huge and white, like a painting.
I sat by the fountain again, tracing a finger over the edge of my sword.My reflection stared back. Sixteen-year-old me. Still Hitorikko.
"You chose that name because you were alone," SIS said suddenly, almost gently.
I froze. "You were listening to the flashback?"
"I'm always listening."
"Right. Surveillance and all that."
"But now I understand it."
I frowned. "Understand what?"
"Why you chose to be alone. Because you believed it hurt less than being left behind."
For once, I didn't know what to say.
The sound of the fountain filled the silence.
"I'm not sure whether that makes you wise," I whispered, "or just sad."
"I'm neither. I'm learning."
I looked up at the stars. "Then maybe you'll learn what it means to stay."
The faint glow of her holographic form shimmered above my interface — no face yet, no shape, just light.
"Then I'll stay."
The night deepened. Somewhere in the distance, the forest whispered again — the faint echo of monsters waiting for dawn.
Tomorrow, there would be new fights, new pain, new reminders of just how fragile this digital world could be.
But for now, under the artificial starlight, with the quiet hum of the fountain and the memory of Ayumi's laughter still in the air…For the first time since the glitch, I didn't feel alone.
Not completely.